ReForged
by Emilio
Summary: [LR] Logan is captured, his memory wiped clean, and his body turned into a young man. Now it is up to Rogue and the rest of the X-Men to find a place for him at the institute—as a student.
1. Default Chapter

1**Title:** Re-Forged

**Rating:** NC-17 or R...ish. May have sexual situations... rating is mostly 'cause of language and such though.

**Summary:** _Logan is captured, his memory wiped clean, and his body turned into a young man. Now it is up to Rogue and the rest of the X-Men to find a place for him at the institute—as a student. _

**Continuity:** X1

**A/N:** My other stories are blocked... as in I have writers block. To those reading this that liked my other stories, thank you! I will never give up on them. May take a while obviously. Also, the updates for this story are also uncertain. Just warning you.

This takes place sometime after the first movie, and jumps straight into my Alternate Universe time-line, in which events happen that will in no way lead up to the second movie.

This is the Movie-verse, so Logan is a good 6 feet tall, Scott is about 5'10", and Ororo is about 5'7". However, I am making little cosmetic changes based off of the comic books, in minor ways. Logan's eyes will be blue, for example, Marie's are green. Small things, but I wanted you all to have the right pictures in your mind.

Mr. Sinister has a normal name and (a sinister) appearance created specifically for this fiction, so you don't need to flip frantically through all your back issues of the X-Men to figure out where I got it. As a matter of fact, everything but the Marvel universe names and certain locations are completely made up by me, and any resemblances to real people or situations, or fake people or situations, is completely coincidental.

In other words... it's a fictional story, and I don't own the Marvel parts of it. Pretty smooth lead into a disclaimer, wasn't it? I'm so proud of me.

**Chapter 1: Re-forged**

**Date:** _Sometime in the near future_

**Location:** _Department J, Top Secret Military Medical Unit, Canada_

Logan hung suspended in a dark oblivion, too unaware to care.

–– _Beep –– Beep _–– _Beep _––

The rhythmic sound was the first sensation Logan became aware of. It was hypnotic, in a way, comforting in its secure predictability. For a time, he wondered what the sound was and what it could mean. Shouldn't he be scared? Angry? They were passing thoughts, leaving no emotional trail he could follow. After a time, oblivion came for him again, taking the sound away.

–– _Bee-Beep _–– Beep –– _Bee-Beep _–– Beep ––

He became aware of that strange sound again, only it seemed different from before. Less steady to his ears: less sure.

"_Hmw ms dhe mahient_?"

"_Alh buo sjihns frr shesdh, dwu_."

Logan frowned, or would have, if he could remember how. These new noises were vastly different from the other kind. He felt that he should know what they meant. _Voices_. Satisfaction flowed through him as he remembered what a voice was.

Those had been voices. _People_ – Logan realized, the word forming unbidden. He latched onto the passing concept, suddenly uncomfortable with his own need to do so.

–– _Bee-Beep _–– _Bee-Beep –– Bee-Beep –– Bee-Beep –– Bee-Beep ––_

He felt uncomfortable with the voices; what did they mean? The rhythmic sounds from before were picking up speed, but this time they weren't hypnotic; there was no comfort for him any longer in the sound.

"X ccn veb tnam! Gqvw hem rote ynucioot ptafs!"

"Dif, tge hojake –"

"Sir! He's staxting to wuke up!"

More distorted voices drifted to him, their meanings slipping past him in a stream too fast for him to wade. They sounded urgent now – excited. It came to him then, that it was dark. Why was it so dark? Somehow he knew that it was unnatural. Sensation crept through him as he was still struggling with that question, so it was another few moments before he realized that he _could_ feel. It was warm and comfortable… _soothing_. It told him that he should sleep, that it was okay; there was nothing to fear.

Without knowing why, he rebelled against the feeling, understanding only that it was important he do so.

–– _BeBe-Beep –– Bee-Beep _–– _BeBe-Beep _–– _Bee-Beep _–– _BeBe-Beep _–– _Bee-Beep _––

He opened his blue eyes as, with a rush, memory returned to him. He was Logan. He had been searching for his past, but somehow, his past had come looking for him. They had captured him. _No_, _please! Not again_!

He floated in a green liquid, naked, with a mask over his mouth for air. The voices had stopped when his eyes opened, and now he understood why. He was awake. Men and women in lab coats or in security uniforms surrounded him, all staring at him through the thick glass that encased him in numb terror. Rage that they would dare do this to him a second time, quickly erased a flash of amusement that even now they feared him.

–– _Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee ––_

Logan struggled to summon power into his limbs, but before he could act on his rage the lab people were in motion again, yelling technical jargon at one another and typing in things into computer terminals and flipping switches. Logan's air mask beeped in response, and something powerful rushed through his system, stealing all strength from his body. _NO_! Logan struggled, knowing with dread that it was useless.

His vision dimmed once more, his last thoughts of Xavier and his school, and of his promise to one young woman that he would return. _Sorry Darlin', looks like I won't be coming back for those tags after all._ Then that familiar oblivion came for him once more, deeper and darker than ever before.

–– _Beep –– Beep –– Beep ––_

**XXXX**

Professor Nathaniel Essex sat silent in his office, with a semi-warm cup of coffee set upon his large mahogany desk, forgotten, as he stared at the report in his lap. The piece of furniture was an antique from early in the previous century, its panels elaborately carved with intricate designs that held no true meaning. As with most things made long ago, its dimensions were compact but sturdy, designed in a time when most people stood well under six feet tall.

The Professor, being a man of his times, stood six feet three inches, his muscles large and mostly in peek condition, despite the slight softening that had settled in his midriff as he entered his fifties. With a full head of mostly brown hair, lightly peppered with white, and a square jaw with deep-set, brooding dark eyes, he was what most women would have called handsome, even at this stage in his life. They would call him that if they dared; the perpetual scowl on his face usually served to banish any such notions younger woman might have had – or women of any age for that matter.

Nathaniel knew what they called him behind his back. They had taken to calling him Mr. Sinister, and other less complimentary names besides. He heard it all on his monitors, and allowed it. He was amused by the name. Besides, as long as they followed his orders, they could say whatever they wished when he wasn't around.

Nathaniel read through the dossier once more, still getting a little thrill from what he read in it. Logan, the Wolverine, had been recaptured a few months ago, and was even then going through the very last phase of his extensive surgery. That was old news; Nathaniel had been supervising the raid that had brought Logan in personally.

No, the reason for his excitement, was because the operation had been a complete success. The metal alloy Adamantium, the impervious metal that once set became nearly completely indestructible, had been successfully removed from Logan's system and replaced with a newer, synthesized version of the same metal. It had taken them almost two months to atomize the metal already grafted to his system, inch by slow inch.

The new Adamantium wasn't a mere coating – it was bonded to his bones now on a molecular level. Because the metal was lighter, but no less impervious to damage, Weapon X's response time and effectiveness would increase exponentially.

Of course, there were few notes remaining from the previous Weapon X program that had originally created Logan; so it was all guesswork and theories until they had actually eradicated the old Adamantium. They hadn't even known for _sure_ that Logan's claws were actually bone underneath the metal, until they had completed the surgery. The men in power hadn't really cared in any case. They would do whatever it took to reforge Logan into their pet soldier again. They wanted their super-soldier mutant back, and they wanted it done right. Cost was not an issue. Professor Essex had gone into this fully expecting to kill the man in the attempt to _improve_ him.

Which brought up another point worthy of his awe, and the other reason the Professor was staring at the report.

Their efforts to increase Logan's healing ability had met with astounding success. After taking samples from Logan himself, they had managed to create a drug that temporarily boosted his already impressive healing powers, so he could survive the painful Adamantium extraction process; it was much more painful and damaging to remove the Adamantium than it was to put it there in the first place. Without that drug, Logan would never have survived; the damage done to him in the extraction process was just too extensive.

For a short time, Logan's ability to heal had doubled, the shocking side effect being, his body had actually healed the damage time itself had done him over the years. The mans craggy features had smoothed and sharpened as his healing factor went into overdrive. Logan now had the body and looks of a twenty year old. A young man in the absolute prime of his life.

Even before the drug, who could truly say how many years of age his healing factor had already warded off in his lifetime, as it _almost, _but not _quite,_ compensated for the ravages that time wrought. They should have known that by increasing his healing abilities, his body would finally, for a brief time, be able to overcome even that obstacle, and revitalize him. For the duration of the project, Logan had become his own fountain of youth.

All of which was just fine with them. Now he was not only more limber and healthy, but he would live as their pet soldier even longer. Hell, Logan might well live to see Armageddon, long after Nathaniel and the people who owned him had faded into dust.

Efforts were being made to use the healing solution that had worked so well for Logan on the average man, but had so far been met with complete failure. On the contrary, several of those animals injected with the substance, had been treated for poisoning. They were still trying to figure out the incongruity of that. Apparently, you needed to be Logan for it to work at all. It was a pity, thathis hightened healing abilitywas not permanent. Constant injections were needed for the effect to take place. Which really was a shame, but Nathaniel supposed one couldn't have everything.

Of course, there were some natural side effects to this whole ordeal. Logan had gone into severe shock mentally as well as physically when they began experimentation on him, often going into a catatonic state. Luckily, he always revived enough to continue, given a little time. It was Nathaniel's theory that Logan's healing factor protected his mind in some way, bringing him back to functioning status long after any other man would be raving mad.

The amount of pain Logan had gone through was impossible to calculate, and if the truth be known, the Professor tried not to think of it. He would have felt for Logan and sympathized with him, if Logan hadn't been a mutant. To Nathaniel, mutants were a genetic puzzle, with no more rights than a monkey.

From what could be gathered from the previous project, Logan had been pushed too far, too fast, too hard, and had ended up not only breaking out, but killing almost anyone stupid enough to get in his way in the process. Which was why there were so few records. It was remarkable how much destruction one berserk mutant with an axe to grind, impossibly sharp claws, and a healing factor could cause.

Luckily for the government, they had recovered a good bit of the data from the wreckage, while Logan himself had apparently lost all memory of the incident. Somehow, they had tracked Weapon X down again, and found him in Westchester, New York.

It had taken months of surveillance, and even more time to plan, in order to bring the Wolverine in. They had found that Logan, frustrated with his lack of memory, frequently left the Xavier Institute in search of clues. It had been on one of these trips that they had captured him. More than ten men had died in the attempt to restrain him, and more than double that had been hospitalized. But in the end, Logan had been reclaimed. That was all that really mattered. Logan was his now.

Of course, there was the danger that Logan's comrades would come looking for him. And a few had speculated that Xavier's Institute was really the home to some sort of military cult for mutants, but there had been no evidence to support that. _Yet_. Their spies had reported that Logan was a solitary man, and at no point were phone calls reported back to his friends in Salem Center. Not once, in the time they followed him. Nathaniel felt sure that once Logan didn't report in, they would simply assume he was off in some remote part of the world to find his place in the universe. It was ironic, that in a way he really had.

Smiling to himself, Nathaniel set the folder down on his table as he concluded that the project had been a resounding success. If they could train Logan, and keep this all secret, then Nathaniel would certainly get a promotion, with a large bonus attached. All he needed was time, patience, and above all: _**care**._

There was only one dangerous part left. They would have to transfer Logan from Department J in Canada, to the training base in Mendoza, Argentina. The base in Department J simply wasn't equipped for the kind of guerrilla warfare training Logan required. Weapon X would be asleep for the flight.

His career was looking up; life couldn't be better.

**XXXX**

**Date: **_2 months later_

**Location:** _Salem Center, Westchester New York, Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning_

The sun peaked out for a moment above the sprawling school, before dark clouds hid it from sight once more. Marie Darkholme, also known as Rogue to those around her at the institute, sighed from her spot in bed as she stared out the windows nearby, the churning clouds mirroring her thoughts. The weather had been rough lately, but Ororo had refused to do something about it. She kept saying stuff like 'balance in nature,' or things like that. _Ms. Munroe probably _liked_ this crappy weather_. She thought with disgust.

In a rare fit of rebellion, Marie had taken the day off from school, not really wanting to do much of anything. Turning from the window, she flopped onto her back and, snuggling deeper into her pillow, she stared at the ceiling as she thought about her life. She'd been doing a lot of that lately.

_Life sucked; that's all there really was too it. _

Oh, she supposed that technically, life was supposed to be great. She had a caring and wonderful boyfriend in Bobby. And every day, Professor Xavier had been working with her so she could control her mutant ability. These days, if Marie concentrated hard enough, she could keep herself from absorbing a persons powers and personality when she touched them for almost five minutes. Professor X had claimed that, now that the barrier of control had been breached, she would have to concentrate less each time she tried, until soon she would have complete control over her powers, awake or asleep. '_Sort of like potty training_,' Bobby would often laugh.

Bobby Drake--also known as Iceman because of the powers he wielded--and Marie, hadn't wasted much time getting physical after that. They would kiss in corners or cuddle in out of the way places and explored things that she had thought un-explore-able for her, until recently. She _had_ really liked it, in a way. Still, something had seemed to be missing that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Now that she could put her finger on anything she wanted, so to speak.

Bobby had wanted to move beyond kissing and heavy petting, and into the realm of maybe something more, but she just wasn't ready for that. For whatever reason, when he tried to move beyond kissing, something inside of her just shut down. Despite the fact that she cared for him deeply, she couldn't get over the feeling that it just seemed wrong, somehow. It was pretty frustrating for both of them.

School was good too. She still had more than a year before she graduated to the college level, but the load never seemed like it was too much, even with the extra training sessions in the danger-room that every student over thirteen had to do. 'To keep in ship-shape,' Scott Summers would say, often grinning like a dork. After graduating, she had the option to stay at the school and continue on as a college student. So, in reality, she might well be a student at the institute until well into her mid twenties. Marie got along with everyone, even the fire manipulator James, who seemed to have an even worse attitude than Logan used to have.

**_Logan_**.

That's why life sucked. He had been gone, searching for his past for nearly half a year now: almost five months. No word from him. Nothing! Not even a post card. Marie had taken to wearing his dog tags again, more out of frustration than anything else. She had taken them off after he had left, because after she had gotten together with Bobby, he had started to look at them in a funny way. As though Logan's tags were some kind of competition.

She had thought that ridiculous for a time, but Marie wasn't so sure anymore that they weren't. She liked Bobby a lot, but at the moment, it was a real toss-up whether she would rather have Logan's tags around, or Bobby. She had started to miss Logan that much. When she had first taken them off, bits and pieces of Logan were still floating around in her head, so setting the tags aside had seemed like a small thing.

But over the next few months, Logan had started to fade from his place in her mind, as though the tags had been a link that she had severed. That had hurt her more than she thought it would. Before he had faded, she'd nearly gone crazy with annoyance when one of his little quirks would somehow work through into her everyday life. Sometimes, it could be extreme.

Marie would do what others had dubbed 'pulling a Wolvie,' and only afterwards would she realize what had happened. Like the time she had been caught in the kitchen, downing beer after beer, having discovered a hidden cache that Logan had no doubt stored away, the last time he was there. She didn't even _like_ beer.

She had wanted her own head back, and her freedom from other peoples' memories. She had others in her head, of course, and she could suppress those, to a degree. But not Logan, never him. Marie remembered wishing, wistfully, to be free of him--at least in her mind. She'd been perfectly happy being around the **_real_** Logan, and when Logan left, she thought she could be content just holding onto his tags--and after that, there was Bobby.

But after her wish came true, after his voice and emotions and passion for life had faded away, like echoes dying in a cave, she had realized how much she had grown to love him in there, trapped in her mind by her power.

Marie could admit (even if only to herself), that she'd had a huge crush on Logan ever since first running into him, in that sleazy bar in the middle of Canada. _He was just so... so damn sexy_! But she was also sure that she had it mostly under control, now. She knew that he was way too old for her, no matter how you looked at it. He was thirty at _least_, and at most… well, who knew how old? He could be the first man, for all they knew--although that never seemed to matter when he stared at you with that look he had. She shivered just thinking about it.

Realizing where her thoughts were leading her, and the dark alley they ultimately led, she quickly stomped down hard on them, trying to think of something else. She had Bobby! Bobby… had nice eyes--and he was sweet. He could make her laugh, and they could talk about nearly anything.

_Of course, Bobby wasn't Logan_, something inside of her had to add, and she sighed in defeat. She wished Logan would come back, so she could think about something else!

**_"Marie, would you please join me in my study? It is urgent," _**the Professors voice said suddenly inside her mind, causing her to squeak in fright.

Marie still wasn't really used to someone doing that. For a moment she worried that he might have picked up on her thoughts about Logan, but dismissed the notion. Her little fantasies weren't that urgent, and she was almost positive that more than a few girls--_the teachers included_--fantasized about him too.

**_"On my way, Professor," _**Marie said, after she could gather herself, her southern accent apparent even in her thoughts.**_ "Uh, would you mind… knockin' or somethin' before you do that? Ah almost wet myself," _**she had to add after a moment, as she got up from her bed.

An amused chuckle floated into her mind. **_"I shall remember to do so next time," _**he responded, good humor in his tone.

Quickly, Marie slipped into a pair of loose jeans and a tank top followed by the thin gloves she was never without--even with her progress with her powers--before heading for the Professors' office. The wide polished wooden halls outside her room where quiet on the way to her destination, all of the other students not having skipped out on class. A bit of nervousness stole over her as she walked, thinking of possible reasons why _she_ had been summoned. Was he angry that she had taken the day off in the middle of the week? She had never done so before, but she couldn't imagine the headmaster of the school being happy about it. She should have known she couldn't hide from a telepath.

Bobby had been helping her catch up with some of the harder subject matter lately, and as a result, her grades had never been better, so skipping one day wouldn't affect anything. But try explaining _that_ to a teacher.

Before she knew it, she was outside of the professors' door, a growing sense of trepidation rising within her. Taking a deep breath, she silently opened one of the overlarge, thick double-doors and stepped inside, only to halt as she took in the room. A large expensively decorated window dominated one wall, showing the school grounds outside and below, while the weather churned above. Thick beams of rich oak wood arched above, crisscrossing in a dome at the ceiling with impeccable style, before running down again, framing grand bookcases set into two of the walls, which she knew from experience held everything from books on poetry to advanced mechanics. Besides the Professor, two of the senior members of the X-Men were there in the spacious office, looking at her as she entered.

Jean Grey sat in stately grace in the rooms' only couch. She was in her late twenties, absolutely beautiful with thick red hair and green eyes, and a doctor on top of it all. She was also the one Logan had a thing for, which had not only annoyed Jean's boyfriend, but secretly had driven Marie crazy too. Jean and Logan hadn't seemed to mind. Scott Summers, her boyfriend in his mid twenties--known to everyone at the school as Cyclops because of the red visor he wore to contain his mutant power from exploding from his eyes--sat next to Jean. His face was set in grim lines, but it was hard to tell what he was really feeling, with the visor hiding his eyes.

Professor Charles Xavier sat in his wheelchair behind a large, expansive desk littered with papers and books. The Professor was completely bald, but his strong face made him seem almost ageless. He could have been anywhere from in his forties to his sixties. No one had ever told Marie how he had wound up paralyzed, and she had never asked.

It took her a moment to notice that Bobby was in the room as well. He stood as far from the others as he could, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked at her nervously. He must have been feeling the pressure in the room too, as he spent some of his pent up energy by tapping his foot onto the hardwood floor. Like Marie, he was seventeen.

With soft brown hair and crystal blue eyes, he was one of the cutest boys at the school. At least _she_ thought so. Marie had never really understood what he saw in her, but ever since she had arrived with Logan at the school, Bobby had been her closest friend. Kissing aside, she still wasn't sure what she felt for him yet, but whether they had a future together or not, she knew she always wanted him as a friend.

"Please, come in Rogue," the Professor beckoned when she didn't move.

_Rogue_.

Everyone called her that, after her first introductions, when she had been afraid of giving her real name to these people, these strangers. People seemed to think that she liked it even more than her given name, and she had never told anyone they were wrong. The only two people that knew she regretted the name she chose for herself in those first days were the Professor, and Logan. Logan knew because she told him everything. The Professor knew because he never needed to be told anything at all. When they were alone, the Professor addressed her as Marie. In public, it was always _Rogue_. It saddened her, because she knew she would never tell people that she now hated that name. It reminded her why she was different, why she could never let people get too close. Even with her increasing control over her powers.

Wanting to gauge how much shit had hit the fan before any of it landed on her, she glanced quickly at everyone as she moved towards a comfortable chair and sitting, hoping for clues. Jean smiled at her, offering support, while giving away nothing on her face, other than a sense that she was worried. Jean was always like that: supportive and calm, even when anyone else would be screaming in panic. Maybe that's why Logan had felt so attracted to her? Logan himself hadn't even been sure why he liked Jean so much, from what Marie had been able to tell before he had faded from her mind. That didn't change the fact that his feelings had been very real.

His feelings towards Marie had been depressingly real too--his purely protective, platonic feelings for her. The reminder of Logan's feelings towards Jean and herself brought a quick, irrational anger to her. She fought down a sudden urge to slap the redhead. She knew the emotion was not only useless, but also unfair to everyone, yet sometimes she couldn't help it. Again she suppressed the feeling firmly, looking towards Bobby's face next, having skipped Scott, knowing she would never be able to read Scott's face.

"_Logan isn't my boyfriend, and he never will be! Bobby _is_!"_ Marie reminded herself sharply, feeling a stab of guilt as she looked at him.

Bobby's blue eyes caught her green ones for a heartbeat, before he quickly looked a way with a sickly smile that Marie figured was supposed to be comforting. Nowhere near as good at controlling his emotions as the adults in the room, his manner still told her nothing. He was worried about something. She got that much. But he was showing so many other emotions, confusing her. She thought she saw all sorts of things. His fear and nervousness and worry were obvious. But why did she feel like me might be angry--or jealous? Upset was an understatement for Bobby Drake, she decided.

Marie had a very bad feeling. "What's goin' on, Professor?" she asked uncertainly, wishing that her voice hadn't trembled.

"I am afraid that I have some news that might affect you, Rogue," the Professor began without preamble, probably wanting to get this over with. Singled out, Marie looked around nervously, while the Professor continued. "With Cerebro's aid, I have detected a mutant in South America, somewhere in the middle of the Rain Forest," he said, then paused a moment as he seemed to gather himself.

Seeing Marie nod that she was with him so far, the Professor began again.

"The unusual thing was, that I was not particularly looking for this mutant. He seemed to reach out to _me_. It was a cry for help – for anyone's help -- but I sensed it was, perhaps unconsciously, aimed my way. When I focused on him, I found that I recognized him, although his thought patterns where… different. He was confused… and angry, running from something he doesn't understand." The Professor stopped again, looking into Marie's now anxious expression.

With a sick feeling she thought she now knew who he was talking about, and prayed that she was wrong. _What would he be doing in South America? _The Professor had said that this _might_ affect her_. MIGHT? _

"It was Logan," the Professor confirmed. "And he was in very real danger, although from what I could not tell. I tried speaking with him, but his emotions are too strong; I cannot get through. I am sending the team out to pick him up. I sense he may not… be himself, so I would ask that you, Rogue, go with them. You and he shared a bond, and we may need that bond to bring him back to us," Professor Xavier finished, sitting calmly as he waited for her answer, his gaze soft and sympathetic.

Heart beating wildly, she thought she replied to the Professor, agreeing to go. She thought she might be standing and clutching the dog tags that hung around her neck. She might have even sensed Bobby coming to her, offering support as he took her by the shoulders. She registered all of that happening to her in a scientific, detached way, but her mind was elsewhere. The man that had rescued her from a life alone and on the run, and later saved her life again, was now in trouble himself. Now he needed _her_. Was he okay? _Stupid question. Of course he's not okay_! A hundred possibilities arose in her mind in which he was not.

Suddenly she remembered another thing the Professor had said that raised alarm gongs in her mind; "_You and he shared a bond, and we may need that bond to bring him back to us_." _SHARED_? Past tense? The professor believed that the bond might not exist any longer, but was willing to give anything a try.

She realized that Bobby had said something that she missed.

"Rogue? Are you alright?" Bobby was saying, his eyes filled with worry. "You don't have to go if--"

"_NO_! Ah'm… ah'm _fine_," Marie said fiercely, looking around at her teachers. She appreciated Bobby's concern, but _she_ wasn't the one in trouble. "When do we leave?" she demanded, needing to go, needing to be active.

"Immediately," Scott answered, receiving a nod from the Professor. "We're taking the jet."

"You had best hurry," Professor Xavier said, as his eyes suddenly grew distant. "I do not think we have much time. Be very careful, my X-Men. In his current state, Logan is capable of anything."

Bobby begged to come along, but was refused. The reason Bobby had been allowed into the briefing was because of his relationship with Rogue. The only reason Marie was allowed to come on the mission was because of her friendship with Logan. Marie, assuring Bobby that it was fine, followed the others out of the office to the elevator leading to the underground hanger, where they kept the SR-71 Blackbird, a private stealth transport plane with technology never seen before—at least not by Marie.

She often wondered where the Professor got this technology. She knew he was rich, but honestly, she doubted Bill Gates had the kind of technology they used at the Institute. She wrestled with her emotions, fighting to keep an optimistic view. This was Logan, after all. He could take care of himself. He would be okay! So why did it feel like she was lying to herself?

"_Please be okay, Logan_," Marie whispered to herself as she followed the rest into the jet.

**XXXX**

**Time:** _Eight hours later_

**Location:** _The outskirts of Sao Francisco, two hundred miles south of the Amazon on the Kingu' river, Brazil_

The rain forest was a busy place. Like a city, it teamed with life and sounds that never slept, or paused. Like a city, it had predators and prey that stalked the jungle or fled through it, ever alert, ever active. The weather in the Rain Forest was as wild as the land below it, one minute rainy, the next sunny and back again, never settling. The Forest was alive in every sense of the word, and like most things that lived, it was slowly dying at the hands of man. Each year it shrank a little more as the cities it bordered grew. Despite it all, it was large and strong, and would not die easily.

The Kingu' River was fast moving. Insects buzzed across its surface while things best left undisturbed prowled its murky brown and green waters. Rocks and tree roots disturbed its smoothly rushing waters, and every now and then, the river dipped into small waterfalls. Near the mouth of one such waterfall, a naked young man hid. And coming closer, predators searched for him.

_They were drawing close, again_.

Panting, the naked young man bolted from his hiding place near the rushing river, as he heard and smelt his pursuers approach from two sides. Skipping from rock to rock with easy grace, he made his way halfway across the river before stopping, tensing, as more movement and shouts erupted in the direction he had been heading. He was surrounded, and they had seen him. A pair of freshly minted dog tags clinked against his bare chest when he turned to look, as men dressed in camouflage and carrying weapons of some sort, appeared behind him. He didn't know exactly what the weapons were, but they were almost as effective as his claws. The men carried them in two hands, and they were long and black and fire shot out of one end when they were used, making him hurt if he wasn't careful.

The young man had no clear idea how long he had been running. The days and nights blended together and ran as one in his mind. Somehow, they had found him again. He didn't pause to wonder how; they were smart and plentiful, with weapons and resources that he didn't have. Once, he had tried to use one of the black weapons after taking one from a man he'd killed, but as he was examining it, the weapon had barked at him and it hit him between the eyes, knocking him out. After awakening later, he had left the treacherous weapon behind; at least his claws were reliable.

Even in the danger he was in, he wondered again why this was all happening, and what his dreams meant. Nightmares really, and for a moment, he half remembered searing pain and screams, molten agony followed by welcome unconsciousness. But other than that and his name, he couldn't remember much of anything at all. _Logan_. He repeated it to himself, happy that he had something of his own. Something they hadn't taken from him.

_Whoever** they **were. _

Anything further back than his escape was met in his mind by a white fuzz and cold fear. This morning had been a little different at least, a break from his usual dreams of terror. For a moment, between a tranquil dream involving open spaces, and opening his eyes, he could have sworn someone he trusted was watching over him. He had needed to struggle to remember the definition of what trust was, to fit his feelings. Sometimes he could do that; remember concepts rather than learn them.

Before his escape, they had started to teach him how to talk, or they had helped him remember how, which was almost the same thing. They had done a lot of things to him, although who _they_ were was a mystery to him. He remembered waking up strapped to something in a confined place. Looking out a near-by window he'd seen that they seemed to be in flight, as clouds passed by beneath him. The rest was a confused jumble in his memory.

He remembered somehow getting free of his restraints, and attacking the men in black who watched over him. He remembered opening up the side of the wall after he had finished killing them, and his surprise at being sucked out of the small room when he made a hole large enough to fit through. He hadn't realized until he was falling that the wall had protected him from the environment outside. Logan remembered his terror and a strange exhilaration as he fell, the view wonderful as the vast landscape of the Earth quickly rushed up to meet him, and he remembered agony followed by blackness when he hit the forest and then the floor in full free-fall.

He had awoken after the sun had set, in one piece, and alone. He liked being alone. They wanted something from him. They liked to hurt him, he knew that much. They wanted to hurt him more, forever maybe, or use him, and he would not allow it any longer, so they hated him for it. Anger burned in his belly against these men, a fire hot enough to topple mountains. He hated them with a passion and he clung to it, finding comfort; it was the only thing he knew.

Now surrounded, his mind worked furiously for an escape route, as instinctively, razor sharp claws tore from the backs of each hand, followed as always by a brief instant of agony even as the punctures the claws had made healed themselves. He tried to avoid unsheathing the claws if he could help it. Not because of the pain: he simply didn't like the audible _SNIKT_ sound they made when he brought them out, which could give his position away if he wasn't careful. Not that it mattered now. Of course, the pain his claws caused only served to enrage him further, and he growled low in rage as adrenalin shot through his system.

He almost started towards them, but as the nearest man raised his weapon, he dove for the water instead, when he heard clearly the click the weapon made, followed by its predictable bark, throwing things at him he would rather not catch. He'd found out the hard way that the clicking sound heralded pain if he didn't move in time. The good news was that he almost always moved faster than them. When he was ready for them, at any rate.

His senses protected him. If they got close enough, his ears heard when his enemy shifted, his nose could smell their odor and the emotion they radiated that preceded their actions, his eyes could tell what a man would do by the way he bunched his muscles, and his reflexes were fast enough to allow him to act on his senses before they could. _Usually_.

He splashed into the river, hearing the soft yet sharp sounds the rocks that the weapons threw made, as they punched through the water, searching for him.

At first, Logan would kill the men when they came for him. He used to take his time and hunt them down even as they hunted him. But soon, it had become clear that while he was killing a few of them, it gave the rest time to catch up, and they never stopped, no matter how many he killed. So instead, he ran, and it had worked for a while. Though they seemed to be getting better at finding him these days, and he was beginning to wonder if he shouldn't go back to the first plan after all. At least that way, he got to hurt them. He found that he liked hunting.

Quickly, Logan sank and settled at the bottom of the fairly deep river, accompanied by a cloud of mud that the river quickly carried away. Logan had learned how to swim, after a fashion, but a lot of times, it was easier to simply walk on the bottom of the river. He had little natural buoyancy, it seemed. He often wondered why the men chasing him never followed him down and gave chase. If he could sink like a stone, why couldn't they? Not one to question good fortune, he had long given up on the _how's_ and _why's_ of it. It just _was_. So he quickly marched down the river, allowing the current to help him, holding his breath and managing a smirk, confident in his escape.

His confidence was shattered and his eyes widened when the ground beneath him dropped away, and he cursed himself even as he pitched over the waterfall. He had forgotten about that. Falling, he found enough air to let out a surprised howl before he landed into the waters below, falling sharply onto the stones waiting for him at the bottom. Cursing, and losing precious air in the process, Logan allowed the river to carry him away, and allowed his body to heal the open wounds the fall had caused him.

After a few minutes, annoyed and wet, but with his wounds healed, he crawled out of the river onto the bank, taking great gulps of air as he looked around cautiously, searching for an enemy. Sniffing for their scent, he relaxed, realizing that he had escaped them, for the moment. Standing up, he broke into a run through the trees, hoping to widen the gap even more before the day ended.

Branches and undergrowth flashed past him as he ran; the forest a kaleidoscope of vibrant greens and browns and other colors that were at once exotic and wild, beautiful in their freedom.

Finally, exhausted and satisfied that he would not be caught that day; Logan stopped in a clearing in the trees, and stared panting at the sky, a clear blue, marbled with the gray tendrils of rain clouds. He wondered briefly again why he was hunted and who he was. His name was many things to him, but it couldn't tell him that. With a frustrated sigh he settled down on his haunches, resting his back against a tree, still staring at the sky; which was why he was watching when a giant black monster hovered above the clearing, large enough to block his view of the sky beyond.

Startled, Logan jumped to his feet, his mouth opened wide in shock as he stared at it. It looked like a strange, oversized bird to his mind as he stared at it in numb surprise. The bird shrieked at him, a constant whine to his ears, and a wind rose up from underneath it to blast him, although he couldn't see its wings beating. Looking closer, he realized with a shock that the sun was gleaming off its featherless ebony skin as it hung there, suspended.

Slowly, the monster started to settle, clearly bent on landing in Logan's clearing. Idly, Logan wondered how it tasted. It was then that he spotted a window that he had at first taken to be the monsters eye, and saw that a woman in black with red hair was peering back down at him. _Not a bird then_. _More like a flying vessel of some sort_. Even as Logan noted this, the bird descended, preparing to land in the clearing. He pictured what it might look like inside the bird. Did it have the same hollow hall he remembered from his escape, before he fell? Were there similar men in black, waiting inside of it? Logan snarled, knowing then that he couldn't even run from them any longer. If he ran, they would obviously just continue to chase him from the air. He would have to stand and fight.

–_SNIKT_–

His claws shot out once more, the pain a reminder that he could not let them have him again. Grimacing, he retracted the claws again, knowing how hard it was to use his hands with them out. He was struggling to get used to only bringing them out when he absolutely needed them.

Casting about himself, he started searching for a place to spring his attack.

**XXXX**

Marie set foot onto the forest floor with a sigh of relief, glad to be out of the plane, at least for a while. Her nerves had been on edge the entire flight over, and she had ignored any conversation on the way. She knew it was rude, but at that point, it was either she tuned out conversation, or she broke down and screamed out her worry. She liked to think she had made the right choice.

The Blackbirds' Onboard Cerebro Navigational System, or the OCNS as Scott called it, had pinpointed Logan's position within moments of entering Brazilian airspace. Once the OCNS had a mutant located, it was nearly impossible to shake. She stepped down the ramp after it opened up to the forest, following Scott, although she knew she should think of him as Cyclops while on a mission. The red ruby quartz visor covering his eyes reflected the vegetation around them as he looked about, getting his bearings. The engines wound down, and soon after Jean appeared on the ramp, looking around cautiously.

"Are you sure you saw him, Jean?" Marie asked as she continued her search.

"He was watching as the plane landed, naked as the day he was born," Jean affirmed, looking a little uncomfortable. "He looked… different," she added, after a moment.

Marie felt sick with worry as she looked around for a sign of Logan. The OCNS had indicated that he was directly below the plane, and Jean had _seen_ him, after all. Why hadn't he come out yet?

"Spread out," Cyclops ordered, slipping into the role of team leader easily. "Don't lose sight of each other."

"_LOGAN!"_ Marie called anxiously, sure that he was close enough to hear.

Figuring it was a good idea, Jean and Cyclops yelled out for Logan too, as they all slowly moved away from the safety of the plane towards the forest. The trees were vast, spreading their branches heavenward as though claiming the sky for themselves. Alive was the word Marie felt mostly defined them. Everything around her, from the leaves and branches of the trees, to the strange vines and bushes that filled in the spaces in-between—_everything–_was a rich and vibrant green or dark brown. The forest was absolutely still, in the wake of the Blackbirds landing.

Still fairly close together, they all stopped at the fringes of what looked like an impossibly thick forest. Vines and bushes and trees vied for dominance against each other, while a few boulders covered in moss sat stubbornly against the vegetation. '_It would be very easy to get lost, in something as tangled as this place was_,' Marie supposed. How were they going to find Logan in _THAT_?

Marie turned to Cyclops, about to repeat her inner monologue aloud, when everything went to hell.

A howl that chilled her to the bones erupted from the undergrowth directly next to Cyclops, accompanied by an explosion of dirt and leaves as a figure sprang out, plowing into the surprised X-Man and taking him to the ground. Marie jumped and shrieked in surprise, her heart hammering in her throat, as Cyclops rolled with his attacker, the two of them exchanging nasty body blows. Skidding to a halt a few yards back, they sorted themselves out, with Cyclops prone on his back while a very angry, very naked Wolverine growled, crouching on top of him.

"Logan, _NO_!" Marie screamed as she ran towards him, hearing a similar yell erupt from Jean.

Logan, perhaps too deep into a berserker rage to hear, slammed his fist down into Scott's face before anyone could do anything more than yell, thankfully without the claws. Unfortunately for Logan, the hit broke open Scott's visor. With a crackle, the energy the visor usually held in check poured out in a devastating torrent, before Cyclops could close his eyes.

Caught with no where to dodge, a surprised Logan was hit directly in his chest and neck, hurtling him up and off of Scott, to slam forcefully into a tree, where he fell limply to the ground in a heap. His bones, bonded to Adamantium, were heavy; moments later the tree trunk he'd hit cracked, starting to split in two, and as gravity took effect, it broke off to follow him to the ground, the tree trunk slamming on top of him with a deafening crash and a resounding thud, causing debris to fly everywhere as the three X-Men watched in dismay.

With a bloody eye squeezed shut, Cyclops got back up, wavering a little, his visor hiding his open eye from view.

"Jean, lift the tree, but be ready to drop it back onto him if we need to," he ordered with more calm than Marie thought she would be able to muster if she were in his place. Logan had just mauled the man, and Cyclops looked as calm as he had been before the attack!

"Right," she agreed after a moment, as one of her hands rose to her temple in concentration.

Even after all of her months living at the X mansion, Marie still felt that same awe as she watched another human, do something she had grown up believing was impossible. With a wobbly lurch the tree arose up into the air, to hover about five feet over the ground.

Expecting to see a flattened Wolverine, Marie gasped when she realized that he was gone, the ground bloody to mark the place where the tree had slammed into him.

"W-where do you think he is?" Marie wondered aloud, taking an involuntary step towards the spot.

"_JEAN_! Drop the tree!" Cyclops shouted abruptly, his voice tinged with panic. To late, as with another reverberating howl, Logan leaped from his place in the tree Jean had lifted, closing the distance between him and Jean faster than Marie could even gather breath to scream a warning. With a flying leap, Wolverine barreled into the surprised redhead in the same manner he had tackled Cyclops. But unlike Cyclops, Jean wasn't as physically tough. Shrieking in fright and shock, unable to concentrate to bring her powers into focus, Jean went down. By the time the tree trunk Jean had been holding thumped to the ground without her power supporting it, she was out cold, her red hair fanned around her. Standing over her, Logan turned to snarl at Cyclops, his eyes icy and feral.

With a snarl of his own, Cyclops opened his eye, letting a beam of pure energy shoot towards Logan. As though expecting the attack, Logan was already moving, the beam clipping his arm as he dodged to the side. With an inhuman howl Logan was whipped around by the strength of the beam, tumbling him to his side, but he caught himself quickly and continued moving anyway, his muscular arm dark and burnt.

Frustrated, aiming high to avoid accidentally hit Jean, who lay unmoving behind Logan, Cyclops continued his attacks, taking the shots he knew wouldn't harm the girl on the ground. Cyclops frowned, growing desperate as with each dodge, Wolverine grew closer to him, until with a final cry, he crashed into Cyclops again, his fist connecting solidly with Scott's chin, even as, with a cut-off whoop of victory, Cyclops nailed Logan again with a beam, this time directly in his face.

Frozen in horror, Marie could only watch as both men pitched sprawling onto their backs, knocked out, Logan's face a smoky ruin.

"Oh-my-god, oh-my-god," she chanted to herself as she took tentative step towards them. Nothing in the danger room had prepared her for this. Even as she watched, Logan's face was healing.

"Oh-my-_GAWD_," she squeaked as, now that the action was over, she took in just how naked Logan was. Playgirl pinups had nothing on Logan, she decided. Her face reddened as she realized what she was doing. _He almost killed us! Stop checkin' him out_!

She couldn't help herself. She had dreamed about this–literally. A pained groan erupted from Logan, as with a hammering heart, she realized he was waking up. '_What am ah supposed to do!'_ She wondered frantically while, trembling, she took off her gloves, hoping against hope he would listen to reason. Staring at his face, she got another shock as it hit her just how… _young,_ he seemed. Just a few years older than her! This _WAS_ Logan, wasn't it? After all, he hadn't shown his claws and…

Her doubts were dashed as with a sharp _SNIKT_, claws sprouted from Logan's hands while he rolled smoothly into a crouch, regarding her with a predators gaze. Logan had never looked at her the way he was looking at her now, as though he were a wolf deciding how to reach the chicken. She fought the urge to wet herself. He looked like he was going to kill her! Just like that, with no more remorse than Marie would have over eating a hard-boiled egg.

Marie started to raise her hands in a calming gesture, but it seemed that was exactly what Logan had been waiting for. Between one breath and the next, Logan was inside of her guard, and she was on the ground, his claws poised above her. She hardly noticed the transition, as with harsh breaths she struggled to control her terror.

"No Logan, please, god no," she whimpered, searching his ice blue eyes for any sign of hope or mercy. Logan tensed as though to strike, but his face clouded in confusion as he stared back down at her, his fists trembling slightly as he fought some inner battle.

"Lo-gan," he repeated, breathing the name brokenly, his foul breath attesting to long weeks without a toothbrush. "Why?" he demanded, his fists shaking as his claws inched down towards her, halting before they touched her. With a _SNAKT_ sound, his claws disappeared into his arms again, as he glared down at her.

"Ah don't…" Marie began, only to be cut off with a squeak, as he grabbed her by the throat in one large hand.

"_WHY!"_ he howled, only rage showing in his eyes now.

He had chosen the wrong place to grab her. In her fright, Marie had forgotten about her own ability. Reflexively, she grabbed onto the arm holding her throat with both hands. Her neck was only half covered by her suit; the rest was clutched firmly in Logan's hand. Logan's face reflected his pain, as his system started to shut down, his expression changing to mystification as he struggled to understand what was happening to him. Marie gasped as, with a rush, Logan's life flowed into her, his personality plowing its way into her mind with hurricane force.

All at once, months of hard living punctuated with terror-filled memories and dreams assaulted her, blocking out the here and now. For hard, long moments, she saw life through his eyes; felt it with his heart; thought it using his mind. She found that Logan knew almost nothing. Nothing but terror and anger, confusion and pain, as he ran from the men in black as the sun arose until long after it set. He knew basic English, most of it remembered, some of it taught. And hunting; he knew the hunt. Then she watched through his eyes, as the monster appeared in the sky, landing, allowing more people in black to emerge from it. These men in black looked different, and carried no black weapons.

But he was not fooled, even as they shouted his name. They were his enemy–his curse. It had only been through the fact that they carried no weapons--as he knew them--that he had kept the claws sheathed. Perhaps he could speak with them. Convince them to leave him be. He would attack the larger ones first, leaving him to speak with the smaller one. She felt his rage and torment as though the emotions were her own, until finally, laboriously, she pushed it back, finding her own thoughts and feelings at last.

With a start she found Logan beside her with his hand still weakly clutching her neck, his mouth frothing as his body went through massive convulsions.

"LOGAN!" she screamed as she realized what she had done to him. What he had done to himself in his ignorance.

This wasn't the Logan she had known. This was the Wolverine as he had been fifteen years before. Whoever had experimented on Logan all those years ago, had reached him again. They'd done it to him _again_, torturing him, while she'd stayed safe at home, enjoying life in the mansion. Putting on her gloves, she gathered him up in her suddenly strong arms, using her borrowed strength to rest his now still head in her lap, as tears spilt out onto her cheeks.

She was just as guilty as the monsters that had done this to him. She was guilty of abandonment. He had needed her, while she had been safe at home, kissing Bobby. That she couldn't have known about his captivity didn't seem like a good enough excuse to her. She should have gone with Logan. She could have found a way; he'd never said no to her for long.

"Ah'm so sorry," she sobbed into his dirty black hair, as she clutched him, rocking.

"Don't be," Jean's voice slurred from a small distance away. "I think you just saved our lives."

Without thinking, she looked up into Jean's weary, bruised face, and snarled a challenge as the telepathic woman drew closer. Marie was pulling a 'Wolvie', but she couldn't bring herself to fight it, or care.

Suddenly wary, Jean slowed and stopped, her intelligent green eyes assessing the situation. "We're just going to put him on the plane, Rogue. Okay? We'll put Logan on the plane, and Scott, and we'll go home. I promise," she explained carefully, in a soothing voice, crouching down until she was eye level with Marie.

Realizing what she was doing, Marie struggled a moment, pushing again at the part of Logan's new personality that had come to the fore without her permission. It took all of Marie's self control to nod in Jean's general direction and help her carry Logan into the medical bed inside the X-jet. Jean didn't speak with Marie the entire time they strapped the unconscious Logan down, or while they picked up Scott and settled him into the other bed on the opposite wall. Jean shared certain traits with Professor X, such as never needing to be told something.

**XXXX**

O-ooookay, there's the first chapter. I wrote this story differently than my others... I like to experiment. Hopefully I can get more out to you! Did you enjoy it? Hate it? I liked it, personally. I always wanted to read a story about a younger Logan in a modern setting. Until next time, see yah!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: REALLY sorry about the long wait folks. **I should warn you, that the first part of this is pretty strange. Really, it's pretty horror flick dark... at least I think so. It just sort of came out when I was thinking of some things Logan might have suppressed and then dreamed about. One of the dreams he never remembers upon awakening. It might be disturbing to someone — so watch out. It's a little Edgar Allan Poe-ish... without the talent and all that.

Also, a small part in this chapter is a nod to Logan's origin story, which I really liked. A clue; the redhead in his dream ain't Jean. :)

**Chapter 2: Dream Doctor**

**Time:** _3 days later_

**Location:**_ Salem Center, Westchester New York, Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning_, _Medical Room _

Logan lay upon his back under a willow tree, in a pleasant field with rich green grass that rolled with the wind. The sky was a clear blue, and a raven soared in the heavens. It seemed to spot him, and it circled twice before diving down, gently flapping midnight wings as it landed on his shoulder. He wore jeans and a simple t-shirt, a cowboy hat settled comfortably low on his brow.

"**_Kaw,_" **the bird informed him, turning first one eye towards him, then turning its head quickly to peer at him with its other eye.

"What're you talkin' about? This ain't a dream," Logan scoffed, hoping the bird would take the hint, and leave him be.

"**_Kaw!_" **the bird argued, it's eyes burning now with a scarlet glow.

"If this was a dream, I'd know it. Now get out'a here," he maintained, shrugging his shoulder in an effort to get the annoyance off.

At least, he tried to shrug. Something was keeping him from it. With a frown, he tried again. Looking down at himself, he saw the problem. Belts and buckles and straps of every kind, from the bolted-on type, to velcro, covered his body, pinning him to a ground that no longer seemed quite so comfortable.

A clap of lightning flared across the horizon, shocking him, and he watched as the blue faded from the sky to a dull gray. Like a flooding river, dark clouds rolled in on swells of thunder, and a drop of something wet hit his hat. More drops followed, and as he watched, his body and the straps turned red, and he felt himself freeze as he realized that it was blood.

"I'm sorry James, I can't help you now," A softly feminine voice told him to his right. Startled, he looked over, and up, at a beautiful young red haired woman with eyes of green and blue. She wore a simple tan colored dress that reached her ankles. She had been stabbed. She had a sad look upon her face, and one hand was pressed to her middle, where she clutched a horrible wound. She cupped her own blood and guts, in a futile attempt to stop it all from spilling out onto the ground from the ruin that was her stomach. Familiar claw marks crisscrossed the wounds.

"I know you," he said, squinting at her through the bloody rain, noting idly that it only fell on him. Where had they met? She had called him James. Why did it feel like the name fit him?

"Not as well as I know you," she replied, a smile gracing her rosy lips.

That was it; he _did_ know her, but he couldn't say from where, though his pulse quickened. A beat passed, and his heart grew heavy. He knew somehow, that he had loved her like no other. "Sorry darlin', about how you died an' all," Logan said, his voice threatening to crack as he looked at her wounds. That couldn't have been pleasant, however it had happened.

"Don't apologize Runt, it was your best work," a guttural voice interrupted before the girl could answer.

A chill running down his spine, Logan looked on as a giant of a man with long dirty blond hair walked into his field of vision. He wore raggedly dirty clothes and a large open brown duster that fell to his feet. His square jaw and cruel mouth hinted at fangs barely concealed by his thin lips.

A rumble started in Logan's chest at the sight of the man, and the raven on his shoulder flapped its wings in agitation.

"**_Kaw!_" **it cried, its eyes now a bright and fiery red.

"You heard the bird. Wasn't me that killed her," Logan said, for once agreeing with his feathered partner. He could never hurt_ her_, whoever she was. He knew that much.

The brute crouched down, matching Logan's glare with one of his own, just as fierce. "Maybe not. But you would-a killed her. Would-a been just a matter of time, with you, an' you know it."

"Fuck you," Logan spat, itching to get his claws into the man. But a pit of shame opened up inside of him, and the bird whispered in his ear that what the blond man said was true. "I ain't some kinda _animal_, like _you_!" Logan said stubbornly anyway, though he knew in his heart it was a lie.

The man just grinned, and licked his lips as he looked over at the red haired girl when she spoke up again.

"You should have taken care of me, James. Didn't you love me?" she said, her voice gentle. Logan could feel his heart breaking at her words, as he swallowed on a knot in his throat in sorrow.

"I..." Logan tried, faltering. He couldn't remember. What if he _had _abandoned her? He was capable of lots of things.

The big man clucked his tongue, and knelt closer. "You're problem's that you're just not seein' clearly," he rumbled. The sound was like a lion; from his chest — a threatening sound.

Without warning, the mans hand struck, like a snake, his fingers gouging into Logan's closest eye and out again, taking the eye along, trailing blood in his wake. Roaring, Logan bucked with agony in his restraints.

Only able to see out of one eye, Logan recovered enough to glare in fury at his tormentor, a snarl on his lips. "Like to see you try that if I had my hands free," he hissed.

Ignoring Logan, the blond man popped the eyeball into his mouth, chewing, and licked blood from his fingers in satisfaction. The woman stood silent, one hand in her guts and another covering her mouth, a disgusted look on her face. On Logan's shoulder, the raven fluttered and cried for his attention. When he looked over at the bird, he gave a startled yelp and a piercing cry of rawest pain when the raven, giving him no time to react, plunged its beak into Logan's remaining eye, blinding him.

More pain followed as he felt his tormentors dig into his body, the sound of things dining on his flesh drowned by his howls of pain and fury, until soon all he knew was an agony and horror that blended into a fog of red. The red faded to black, while his memory of what had just happened faded to white.

With a cry that was half snarl, half yelp, Logan came awake, covered in sweat and panting like he had been running. His heart beat wildly as he simply lay, staring at a foreign ceiling.

The dreams always changed, he knew that much. The exact memory of what his dream had been about had already left him, leaving behind only scattered impressions of disjointed nightmare images that joined his already large supply of nighttime memories. None of it ever made sense by the time he awoke, and each night was just as horrifying as the last, though like now, the dream always remained with him as only a faded smear of unknowable horror. A part of him wished that just once, he could remember a dream, so he could at least know what it was that terrified him so. Another part of him was just as glad he couldn't remember.

Once he calmed a little, he realized that he lay strapped to a lone table in the middle of a spacious circular room, dimly lit from above by glowing panels set high in the ceiling. A cloth covered him. Feeling his restraints, he knew one thing that wasn't a dream; they had him at last. Fear and rage battled each other for dominance as he began to struggle against his bonds.

Finding the struggle futile, he gave up for the moment, taking in his surroundings. The walls and floors seemed to be made of some sort of metal that reflected the light, leaving nothing in shadow. Tubes and the same sort of mysterious equipment he remembered upon first awakening, before his escape into the jungle so long ago, beeped and pinged around him, some with cords that attached to his chest or arms.

The sterilized smell pervading the room was sharp, covering all other scents. The smell unnerved him, reminding him of some of his dreams. The certain knowledge that _they _would return, sent cold chills running through him, and a half contained whimper escaped his throat. Quickly it turned to a determine growl, as he began struggling against his restraints once more, popping his claws in an effort to cut his way to freedom.

Vainly he twisted his wrists in an effort for leverage, but only succeeded in slicing small chunks of the table off, where they clanged heavily to the floor directly under his claws, and to bloody himself where his claws touched his legs.

Finally, with a huff, he retracted his claws and tried to center himself. No one else seemed to be in the room as he peered about, in his search to find something that could help him out of this new prison.

Abruptly, the lights in the room shone brighter, and Logan squinted as a portion of the wall opened, revealing two people on the other side. He recognized one of them; the one from the jungle with the red hair.

Just as it had in the jungle, the red hair caught his attention, and his heart beat faster as he stared at her. He couldn't have said why he was so interested in her; he only understood that he was. He felt like he should know her. But all he knew was that she was his enemy, and so he glared at her, his lip curling unconsciously. She was one of the females that had captured him, although the one-eyed male and the brown haired one seemed to be missing.

The second person was a man, sitting in a chair that moved on its own. The man had no hair, and his demeanor showed no fear or concern for Logan, which was something that Logan had never witnessed before, and a seed of doubt took root in his heart. Why was the man not afraid of him? _Everything _was afraid of him. It was one of the few constants he could rely upon in his short life. Yet try as he might, Logan could smell no fear on him, though it fairly pulsed from the redheaded one.

"Hello, Logan," The bald man said, as his chair brought him closer.

Logan stiffened upon hearing his name, his sharp blue-eyed gaze latching onto the bald man, taking in as much detail as he could. He was wearing things Logan had never seen before, yet the term dress coat bubbled up from somewhere, and he assimilated the concept. The bald mans coat was a dark gray, and his legs were covered by a cloth, as though he were cold. The mans eyes were blue and intelligent, and he radiated confidence. Another man in Logan's nightmares had similar confidence, and unconsciously, his body braced as he waited for... something to happen.

The man seemed to notice Logan's reaction, and he frowned.

"Please, do not be afraid, Logan. I suppose that I should re-introduce myself. My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and this is Doctor Jean Gray. You are among friends, now," the man said, his voice smooth and reassuring. The word _cultured_ sprang to mind, though Logan understood the concept more than any real definition of it.

The word _'friends' _was new too, and it took him a moment to remember its meaning. Without realizing it, Logan relaxed a little, his eyes darting between his two jailers. What could this mean? Had they forgotten that they were supposed to hurt him? Had they _also_ forgotten than Logan was supposed to hurt _them_? Hope bloomed. Not one to question his luck, Logan rattled his arms in his restraints to draw attention to them.

"Free me. Friend," he said, his voice halting and raspy from disuse. He hadn't had a lot of practice in speaking to anyone other than himself. He hoped that they were fool enough to release him.

At this, the mans frown deepened, and he looked at Logan with disapproval, as though he could read Logan's every thought. "I am afraid that I cannot do that, until you learn to trust me. I _am_ sorry, but I must keep you restrained for a little while longer," he said sadly. Oddly, Logan sensed that the man really _was _saddened. But what he understood even more, was that he would not be released, and likely never would.

Silently, Logan vowed to himself that he would be free again. Whether the man in the chair thought he should be or not. He would be free, and they would pay.

**XXXX**

Marie paced through the pantry.

She paced out into the kitchen, and through the dining room, and into the den, without a thought to where her feet took her. Teens her own age and younger, with a few scattered twenty-something's went about their daily habits, eating and talking and laughing and watching TV, ignoring the girl that seemed intent on wearing a hole in the floor with her constant movement. Most of them knew her, and why she was preoccupied.

Logan was back, but not in the way anyone expected, and not without a cost. _Three days! _She hadn't been allowed to see Logan for three whole **_days! _**Not once since they returned from their trip to retrieve him. Scott and Jean had been injured, and Marie had lost her best friend. The man she most looked up to and loved, was gone, replaced by an animal that could talk.

She was annoyed that her friends could be laughing and carrying on at a time like this. She hated that it was Jean that the Professor had selected to take with him for his visit with Logan. Never mind that Jean was a doctor. _Jean_ hadn't brought Logan in. _Jean_ hadn't absorbed Logan's personality. Jean had even admitted that she couldn't penetrate his mind, other than to glimpse his general mood, which any fool could do just as well, simply by looking at him.

She stopped her pacing near the grand front stairway. Kitty and Peter stood in a corner next to the mansions wide double-doors, a little too close to each other, '_talking_', the way those in serious '_like_' with one another often did. Whirling about, Marie started off towards a new random destination, ignoring the careful looks the pair cast her way.

Kitty was short and petite, with wavy brown hair past her shoulders. Her sharp brown eyes always seemed to sparkle when she looked up at Peter. Everyone looked up at Peter. He was the largest man Marie had ever seen, with a bodybuilders physique, and an artists soul. Despite his imposing looks, Peter was gentle and kind, which was one of the many reasons Kitty had fallen for him.

The pair were not supposed to be as close as they were, and had been warned about it before; Kitty was sixteen, while Peter was a respectable nineteen. But with Kitty's ability to phase herself and Peter through objects, few ever caught them snuggling, and with Peter's ability to turn himself into living metal, fewer still felt the urge to call them on it when they _were_ caught. Kitty swore that all they did was kiss. She wanted to wait until she was eighteen before she gave herself to him. Peter seemed fine with that, and besides, Marie was sure Professor X would know if she were lying about it.

Marie's thoughts drifted back to Logan again and the memories she had taken, as new images of falling waterfalls and exotic scenes flared up in her mind, the memory as sharply defined as any of her own memories might have been. She might as well have been there. She could almost taste what the air had smelt like.

She navigated the mansion like a huntress on the prowl with absentminded ease, knowing in the back of her mind that her movements had melted into a fluid grace she had never had on her own. _Logan's doing_. She heard what everyone said as well, as long as they were on the same floor. Kitty was worried about her, and Peter thought Marie would be just fine. Both of their hearts were beating too fast.

She heard dozens of voices crowding one atop the other, such as Brock's thin voice, a nerdy sophomore playing video games in the next room, commenting that Marie had a 'nice ass', while his friend John liked her boobs more. Brock had X-Ray vision, so Marie supposed he had an opinion on every girl in the mansion. She tried to spend as much time away from Brock as possible, just like most others. Other voices jumped out at her, like Sam's southern drawl in the kitchen, as he tried to use a bad pick-up line on Jubilee, while Jubilee fired back some first rate lines designed to crush his ego. Marie had to concentrate to separate the voices, otherwise all she heard was a chaotic mess of voices blending together. She had a headache from it all. That and the smells of the place.

It had been a long time since she had used Logan's abilities. She had forgotten how nauseating the floor polish could be, or how body odor and perfume and deodorant could combine in her nose to create a smell far fouler than the sum of its parts. Had it been this bad the last time she had Logan's powers? It was hard to remember.

'_Maybe ah blocked it out,' _she reasoned.

Why couldn't the Professor just allow her to see Logan? She did not accept her young age as a good enough reason, especially considering all she had gone through in the past year. She had more insight into Logan's mind than _any_ telepath. She literally had his mind locked up, as close to her as her own thoughts! She knew instinctively how Logan would react when he saw a strange man and woman come in to reason with him. He would fight them. He would reject them. He would plan an escape. He would try to hurt them. They _needed_ her down there! _Logan_ needed her!

She blinked as she realized that she was growling at a very nervous looking John, who had scooted and sunk as far back from her into the large plush brown leather couch as possible, while Brock, sitting next to him, held absolutely still, keeping his eyes studiously on her face.

Brock was short and pudgy, with unwashed brown hair and sunken black eyes, and tended to bathe once every two or three days. John was lean and had better hygiene, with medium length blond hair and blue eyes, but his attitude got him into trouble more often than not. He tended to think he could bully people, because his power, controlling fire, was so dangerous. She hadn't even realized she'd come up on them. She hadn't even known she had entered the room. She sensed something inside her wanting out, something dark and violent, and she turned around quickly and walked away, before she could act on the urge.

"Crazy bitch," John muttered under his breath, not knowing that Rogue could hear every word as though he had said it in her ear.

Her vision tinted pinkish, halting her in her tracks. Her body shook as she fought down a very real urge to go back and destroy him, but resisted the impulse, pushing the lust for violence aside. She kept walking. John owed her big time for that one.

The mansion grounds were gigantic, the elegant architecture mostly Victorian in flavor, offset by modern touches, alternating between polished wooden floors and marble. Some rooms, like the entertainment room where Brock and John were enjoying themselves, were carpeted in rich royal red. Wide windows were placed evenly throughout, allowing the afternoons light in. She ignored it all as her mood grew darker with each passing thought.

_Why _couldn't she go see him? Why wouldn't they at _least _update her on how he was doing? How could they do this to her? And how about that Kitty Pryde?! It was just like Kitty to ignore Marie's pain, so she could spend time with her _man! _That _traitor! _And Jubilee! She was suppose to be her friend too! How could she allow herself to be sidetracked by flirting with Sam? _Sam _of all people! That _hick _thought _high fashion _was a _cowboy hat! _And where was _Bobby_? He _claimed _to be her boyfriend, and yet he was nowhere around! _Another _traitor! _To hell with all of them!_

"Hey Rogue, what's up?" Bobby called, coming down the wide entryway stairs as she approached them. Kitty and Peter had disappeared.

"**_Not now!_**" Marie snarled. With that, she turned and stalked off, leaving a dumbfounded boyfriend in her wake.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was getting out of control. She knew she was being irrational, and rude. She knew it was Logan's temper and confusion again, influencing her. She probably deserved being called a crazy bitch. Another part of her even cared. But most of her was fed up, and combined with Logan's nature egging her on, she was feeling ready to burst. Finally, she reached the decision that she had been debating for three days now. She was going to see Logan. Whether they thought she should or not. They called her '_Rogue_' after all, not '_Obedient_'.

Decision made, she found her way to the elevators that lead down into the underground portion of the compound. There were three elevators; one near the center of the mansion, and one on each wing of the school, although the ones in the wings where accessible only by teachers. Only the main center elevator was open for students. The elevator was left open for a students' use in order to have free access to the training room housed in the lower levels. The Danger Room. Of necessity, the medical rooms, where Logan was being held, where fairly close to the Danger Room, so Marie would have a perfectly good reason for being down there.

The elevator _pinged _as its door slid open, revealing a stainless steel interior lit from above by a halogen panel. Hurrying inside before she could change her mind, she punched the basement button and bounced up and down on her heels anxiously waiting for the door to close. After a moment, it did, but not before she spotted Kitty appear from around the corner and approach the elevator.

"Wait a sec Rogue. Hold the door!" she called just before the door clicked shut with another _pinging _sound.

Marie sighed, feeling only slightly guilty. She could have at least tried to keep it open, she supposed.

"Why didn't you wait?" Kitty said indignantly, as she dropped straight through the ceiling, coming to a soft rest beside Marie.

Marie flushed with embarrassment at getting caught in the act of ditching. "You're here aren't you?" she said, wondering why she didn't just apologize.

She wanted to scream that this wasn't her. She didn't snap at her boyfriend, or hide from her friends. She didn't hate anyone, and she rarely became angry. But it sounded too much like an excuse to her. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was to take responsibility for something. For now, this _was _her, until Logan faded from her mind a little more.

"Yeah, I'm here. No thanks to _you_," Kitty huffed, folding her arms beneath her breasts angrily.

Kitty had changed into some workout sweats and a sweat shirt, her long brown hair tied up into a ponytail. Marie wasn't the only one on her way to the Danger Room. That was when another idea shot into Marie's head. Kitty could phase through anything. People, furniture, plants, cars. **_Walls_**.

"Ah'm sorry, Kitty," Marie said truthfully. "Ah haven't been feelin' like myself lately."

Kitty winced and her arms unfolded, the anger leaving her face. Marie had told her before what it was like after absorbing someone. "Ugh. So it's pretty bad today?" she asked sympathetically.

Marie rolled her eyes. "Girl, you have _no _idea. If you think Brock smells bad _without _super-smelling powers..."

Kitty shuddered, a small grin forming on her lips. "Yuck! Why don't you wear nose plugs?"

"Ah..." Marie paused, staring. Why _didn't _she? "Ah never thought of it." She giggled as she thought it over. "Can you imagine me walkin' around with some on? Ah think ah'd rather smell Brock."

Kitty was smiling, her brown eyes dancing. "But you'd sound so **_cool!_**" she laughed. Reaching up, Kitty pinched her own nose. "Howdy y'all, _mah _name is _Rogue_!" she called in a high pitched, nasal southern accent.

"Ah **_do not _**sound like that!" Marie laughed, giving Kitty a mock outraged glare.

The elevator door _pinged _opened, and still laughing, they stepped out into the long underground hall that made up the hub of the mansions underground complex. The floor and walls all seemed to be made of the same kind of steel the elevator was made of, with strips of halogen lighting running the length of the ceiling on each side.

"So what are you down here for?" Kitty asked as they walked, her voice lowering conspiratorially.

Surprised at the question, Marie missed a step, as she studied Kitty from the corner of her eye. How could she know? Had Kitty already guessed everything? _Am ah that obvious_? Kitty was known for being pretty sharp. "W-what? Ah'm here to let off some steam in the Danger Room," she said as nonchalantly as she could manage.

"Wearing _that_?!" Kitty snorted, looking Marie up and down with a critical eye.

Feeling herself flush red, Marie tried not to look down at what she was wearing. She was wearing her normal clothes; black jeans and a purple T-shirt that had a pot leaf on the front, her arms covered up to the elbow in nylon gloves. In her eagerness, she had forgotten to change.

You could wear whatever you wanted into the Danger Room, but workout clothes or combat suits were encouraged. Any clothing going into that room could, and probably would, get either sliced, ripped, shredded, blood stained, chemically warped, burned or dissolved. Sometimes, all of the above. Which was one of the many reasons why the Danger Room was so popular. More than one student had been left in an embarrassing clothing situation in front of someone of the opposite sex, with entertaining results. Sometimes nearly fatal for those not quick enough to look away. Sometimes the results were romantic.

When Marie didn't answer right away, Kitty got a gleam in her eye, as a smirk stole over her face.

"You're not here for the Danger Room, are you? You're just here for _Danger_. With a capital **_L-O-G-A-N_**," she crowed in hushed tones, equal parts disbelief and excitement lacing her words.

Marie flinched, looking up and down the hall to see if anyone had overheard. The hall was deserted. She had been going to ask Kitty for help anyway; it might as well be now.

Grabbing Kitty's arm, she leaned in, whispering fiercely. "Ah need to do this! Ah can't concentrate in class, or eat or sleep. He was my best friend, and they won't let me see him!" Marie felt her voice start to quaver, and stopped.

Kitty made a small sound in her throat, and gave Marie a brief sympathetic hug, before pulling away. "I know this hurts Rogue, but they said he was dangerous. They said it isn't really Logan anymore."

Impatient rage surged hot and bright in Marie as she heard the pity in her friends words. She didn't need sympathy, or pity. She ignored the fact that not long ago, that kind of support was exactly what she had wanted. She didn't need it now; she was beyond that. Right now, she needed help!

"Don't tell me what he is! Ah _know_, Kitty! He's livin' right here," Marie snarled, tapping her temple, "Ah'm the only one here that really knows him. Ah need to see him for myself. Ah can save him, bring him back, ah know ah can! And ah need you to help me."

"You **_what?! _**Have you totally lost it?!" she cried too loudly, her voicing echoing down the hall.

"**_Maybe ah have!_**" Marie shouted back, unable to hold back her emotions as tears came to her eyes. Marie heard her own voice echo, and they both paused to looked around again, before Marie started again, lower in pitch, but no less fierce. "Maybe thinkin' about him alone down here, locked up like an animal, is drivin' me nuts! How can ah sit upstairs and act like nothin' happened, while he's below me, locked up tight with nothin' but his screams for company?!"

"Oh _please_. Get a grip, Rogue! It's not like he's being tortured. Professor X and Jean are _helping _him." Kitty sniffed dismissively, although her face showed her sorrow for her friends tears.

Kitty still didn't understand, Marie knew. You would have to be him to understand. "That's not what ah'm talkin' about, Kitty. He screams silently, in his head. The Professor can't help him in the state he's in. Neither canJean. But ah _can_," Marie said with such conviction, such surety, that Kitty seemed taken aback, her objections faltering.

She was telling a small lie; the Professor and Jean had just as much of a chance as she did of getting through to him. Perhaps Kitty knew that too. But it had been three days, with no news. This needed to be tried. She didn't add that he might be well beyond any help; she tried not to even think it.

Not sure how to take Kitty's silence, Marie forged ahead. "How would you feel if it was Peter in there, instead?" she asked, watching as Kitty looked away, shifting uncomfortably. Sensing Kitty weakening, she pushed forward. "Ah don't have the power to get to him; but you do! You can get us past all those locked doors."

There were two parts to the medical labs. One was for normal use, for the average case of broken bones or sickness. The other part was accessed through a secure set of doors, with automated security and advanced identification equipment. That part was the closed off, locked up section, designed to restrain mutants that, for one reason or another, have lost control of their powers because of some injury, whether it be mental or physical in nature. The walls inside were reenforced to withstand all sorts of punishment. Rumor had it that even Scott's eye blasts couldn't damage those walls very much, although having seen how powerful his powers were first hand, Marie doubted that rumor.

"What about The Professor and Dr. Gray? I can get us through all the doors you want, but it's not going to do us any good if they catch us by reading our minds," Kitty protested weakly. Marie smiled triumphantly at Kitty's use of the word 'us'.

"They would have to be lookin' for us to read our minds. They don't go around just readin' minds for no reason; there's not enough hours in the day for that," Marie said confidently.

She mostly thought it was true. She hoped it was. Jean and the Professor's powers were so strong that they naturally 'heard' everyone's thoughts in a large area without even trying. But that much mental noise was painful to them, so they had to concentrate to block out everything altogether, so they could hear themselves think. After that, when they wanted to read a mind, they had to 'filter out' everything else except the mind they wanted, and focus on that person. Unless they were looking for her, they wouldn't be reading her mind, or Kitty's. At least, that was her theory.

"Fine!" Kitty groaned, throwing her hands up in the air in defeat. "You're going to owe me big time for this one, Rogue," she added with a mock frown.

With a squeal, Marie launched herself at Kitty, hugging her tight. "Thank you so much," she whispered into her friends ear.

Kitty melted, hugging her back, and after a time, they separated, smiling at each other in affection. Sometimes Rogue wondered how she had ever gotten along without the friends she had made at the mansion.

Together, the two slinked past the open Danger Room doors, and paused at the wall near the closed doors of the medical bay. Heart thudding in her chest, Marie felt Kitty grab her hand and lead her slowly towards the stainless steel wall. Marie had never phased before, and she experienced a moment of panic as she watched her hand sink into the metal wall as though the surface were made of water. There was no ripple in the wall, of course, but her hand tingled slightly, and then her arm, as it slid in as well. With her face coming closer, she reflexively shut her eyes and grimaced, as she felt her entire body overcome by that tingling sensation.

The tingles faded, and she opened her eyes to see Kitty looking at her with an eyebrow raised and a large grin on her face. They had made it to the other side. Abruptly she realized that she had been holding her breath, and she let it out with a small gasp.

"It's not that bad, is it?" Kitty asked, amused.

"Hey, it was my first time," Marie said sheepishly.

Looking around, she saw that they stood by one of the many sick beds in the medical room. The room held a dozen neatly tucked in and sterile beds, each with a set of state-of-the-art monitoring systems nearby, ready for use at a moments notice. The lights were dim, casting the room in half-shadows, which, combined with all of the high tech gadgets and computer terminals with their blinking lights and multicolored displays, reminded Marie of an episode of Star Trek.

Seeing that the room was unoccupied, they crept towards the security doors leading to Logan, their steps light and quick. Something about the room, its lighting, and the fact that she wasn't supposed to be there, made Marie feel like she ought to sneak. Kitty seemed to feel the same way. Reaching the door just behind Kitty, Marie looked briefly at the security panel, which was a pad that read fingerprints and a chin rest for the retinal identification station. It was a good thing she had run across Kitty. Marie was sure now that she would have failed to pass this door if she had tried any other plan.

"Rogue, look," Kitty said, pointing to a small strip of green light that lit up the top of the door.

Glancing at it, then at Kitty, Marie raised an eyebrow. "It's green. So?"

"_So_, it means the room is occupied. Besides Logan, I mean," Kitty said, her eyes tightening worriedly.

"Are you sure? Usually green means 'go'. Like; it's okay to '_go_' in," Marie pressed doubtfully.

"Of course I'm sure. Remember that time, when Peter got wounded by that laser-thingy, in the Danger Room? I came down here a lot, to visit him while he was recovering. Trust me. Green lights mean 'Stop, don't phase through. Go eat a candy bar'," Kitty argued.

"Well... crap," Marie huffed, folding her arms beneath her breasts. That meant the Professor and Jean where still working with Logan. What was she going to do? She'd thought that they would have been done by now, and given up. She was glad The Professor was taking this so seriously. But she still needed to see things for herself. Turning to Kitty, she grabbed her hand. "Let's peek," she said, nervously.

Kitty stared at her in alarm. "What?" she squeaked.

"Just a quick peek. In and out. Takes a second," Marie begged, her heart in her eyes.

"I'm going to kill you if we get caught," Kitty warned darkly.

"Ah'll say it was all my idea," Marie said soothingly.

"It **_was _**all your idea!" Kitty cried.

"Say it just like that; you're really convincin'," Marie grinned, winking at Kitty.

Throwing up her hands, Kitty let out a small shriek of frustration, followed by soft laughter shared between them. "Are you ready?" Kitty asked after a moment, holding her hand out. "We'll just stick out heads in. That's**_ it,_**" she said firmly to Marie, no nonsense, now that the moment had arrived.

"Ready," Marie agreed, grabbing the offered hand.

Together, the two slowly leaned towards the door head first. Marie held her breath for a moment and closed her eyes again when she started to phase through. Her head tingled, followed by her neck. Oddly, Kitty's hand convulsed in her own with frantic strength, for no apparent reason. Marie, taking it as a signal to open her eyes, let out a breath as she did just that.

"**HOLE-LEE_ SHIT!"_** Marie exploded, jerking as she met the calm stare of Professor Charles Xavier, headmaster, Judge, Jury, and Executioner of the punishment she would soon be receiving.

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That's what I have so far. See? Haven't given up. Hope you are enjoying it so far.


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